In Articulo Mortis
Part 3: Lighthammer & Verlaine

Lighthammer felt feverish and odd, as if he were having heartburn, except this was all over his body. The wound on his neck tingled, but he was confident he could fight off the reaper virus. He had fought off plenty of illnesses before. Besides, the reaper probably hadn't had enough contact with him to spread the virus.

They advanced through the tunnels, having left the others to pursue their own branch of the sprawling network. Verlaine's presence was unmistakable, and he took comfort that his beloved was there. He was confident she could take care of herself, so he needn't worry. Snowman was there, too, even though he seemed on edge. His training in the way of the Chinese warriors of long past had enhanced his senses further; if any one of them was to sense something was wrong, it would be him.

Water dripped somewhere, echoing loudly; rats scuttled about on the ground, fleeing from the approaching vampires. He held onto his war hammer tightly. It anchored him to here and now as his condition got worse, but he wasn't about to give in and show weakness in front of his comrades.

He was feeling worse, and he was burning up from the inside. Spontaneous combustion was fast becoming a risk. His skin felt like it could melt away, and his insides literally hurt. Internal bleeding from the encounter with the reaper? Maybe, or it could be the virus...

No. It couldn't be. He wouldn't get infected, not him. He was strong, and he hadn't turned almost immediately like Priest had. He was safe.

But he was hungry, which was odd. The Bloodpack had made sure to feed before joining the Daywalker in his crazy plan to hunt in the daylight. It was a basic rule never to go hunting on an empty stomach. He was getting hungrier, the bloodlust taking him on. His insides burned hotter like they had been set on fire and they felt tight, the feeling one would have when being squashed in a small lift with a dozen other people. Or the feeling one who have if they were being encased in solid bone.

He had not heard Nyssa as she had performed the autopsy on the dead reaper they had found, so he knew close to nothing about reaper anatomy. All he knew, now, was that he was very hungry; he needed blood. Now. And since there was no one else there...

Snowman had stopped. Lighthammer twisted his massive war hammer, striking before the other man could react.

Verlaine stepped lightly as she separated herself from Snowman and Lighthammer. She had heard a noise coming from somewhere else in the tunnel and she knew it was probably nothing, but it didn't hurt to check it out.

The other two went on. She glanced behind her to see where they were going, and then inspected the iron bars, peering into the inky blackness beyond. Nothing, just like she had expected. It was probably the fans or something else that proved to not to be a threat. She was about to turn around to look for the others when she heard a clatter.

She was slow in her advance, just in case something really dreadful had happened. She was nervous and afraid for her man. Snowman and Lighthammer were more than able to hold up their own in a fight, but that didn't stop her from worrying about what had happened. It wasn't like Snowman to drop something, especially his precious sword. There was no doubting that the clatter had been caused by the blade hitting the ground.

"Lighthammer?"

No response.

She gripped her gun tightly. He can take the head off anything that tries to attack him, she reminded herself. She had seen him do it before; the sheer brute force he commanded would have frightened her if she wasn't his lover or on the same side. He can take the head off anything. It became her mantra as she searched the tunnels for him.

Her confidence faltered when she smelt that smell. Reaper-stink, and it wasn't the pheromone spray that Nyssa had given them. No, this was the real deal, the reaper itself. The funny thing was how it was being carried on by Lighthammer's unique one that she was so familiar with. It twisted and mangled his slightly-spicy scent, making it into something new and foreign...but recognizable.

Her heart froze in her chest as she started to form suspicions. She didn't mind being right, but for once she sincerely hoped she was very wrong.

The vampire had just fed not long ago. He was fresh and thirst-quenching, but he wanted more. One was not enough. He had struggled, at first, but he had made quick work of the vampire. He didn't scream like the redhead had. He tried to, certainly, opened up his mouth and tried to work his non-existent vocal cords. It had failed, obviously. He hadn't made a sound as he collapsed to the ground.

He was almost done with him when the sound of footsteps echoed through the tunnels. A flash of bright red distracted him; Lighthammer dropped the vampire and stood up, stalking over to Verlaine, his mouth closing and folding back to give him some semblance of what he had looked like before.

The change had been slow and relatively painless. He hadn't known he had been becoming more and more a reaper until the very end; it had snuck up upon him like a mercenary out for the kill. It had taken him almost six hours to change fully, during which he had felt discomfort as the bone grew over his organs at an accelerated rate, but otherwise he had not felt anything. His mind didn't even have a chance to react as the reaper took over.

But now something woke up as he saw and smelt Verlaine's terror. His former self came back, fighting for control over his body, to tell her to run, run as fast as she could. To tell Nyssa and Reinhardt and the Daywalker that he had been turned, to stop him before he hurt another one of their own. Before he could hurt her. Fight it! Fight the fucking reaper!

Verlaine didn't need to see any more to know her beloved was one of them. The reaper had infected him in the House of Pain. Normally she would have felt betrayed and upset with him, but any of that was swept away by the fear and loss she felt. For the second time within less than five years, she was about to lose someone she loved very much. First her sister and now Lighthammer.

No. He was already gone.

The confirmation came when he stepped out into the light. She knew she should be running for her life, but she couldn't move.

She finally came to her senses when he was standing in front of her, when she could see the seam running down his chin and the pallor that came with being a reaper. I'm sorry, Lighthammer. She could cry, but she wouldn't. She squeezed the trigger of her weapon and it emptied out God knows how many bullets into his belly. Even though her man was dead and this was just some sort of evil demon inhabiting his body, it pained her to shoot at him. It had to be one of the most difficult things she had had to do in all her two hundred and fifty years.

There was something in his eyes that made her stop. Lighthammer was still alive, and trying to fight himself. She lowered her gun, trying to see her man again, in his yellow eyes...

Lighthammer was battling against himself. He had to tell her to get away from him now, or else it would be too late. He tried to wrestle control back, and he partially succeeded.

"Verlaine." It was strangled, but she could hear her Lighthammer in there. He was alive, deep inside the reaper, and fighting to warn her. She thought her tears may have really spilled, but sense took over and she scrambled up the ladder; there was no other way out.

The reaper in him roared and chased after her, even though he tried to hold it back to give her time. Run, Verlaine, run!

She was terrified out of her mind and all she knew was that she had to get away, away from him. The ladder was rusty and wet, but she hurried up the rungs, knowing that they were her only hope. The reaper — she refused to think of him as her lover anymore, he was dead for good — grabbed her leg as she struggled with the manhole. Verlaine barely dared to look down. If she let go, she would be pulled under and the thing that possessed his body would devour her with all the hunger of a child without food.

He tried to get away from her, to let go of the ladder and fall back down so she could escape, but he couldn't control his body anymore. Lighthammer felt himself slipping away, to be replaced by the mindless eating machine of a reaper. He tried his damnedest to stay in control, but he couldn't. His only hope was Verlaine to get that manhole cover open and get out of the sewers —

Open! Open! She commanded the cover. The heavy disc finally budged. Her relief turned to horror as the sun's rays engulfed her in all of their white-hot fury.

Verlaine screamed. She could hear the reaper below her bellow in pain; none of them could get out of the way in time. At least this way we can be together —

Their ashes floated down to the ground.